The Compass of Time
by THE FILLER BUNNY
Summary: SPOILER Book 6! Harry Potter must locate the last of the Horcruxes if he wants to kill Voldemort and suddenly realizes just how complicated it can get without Dumbledore to aid him in his journey. Rating may change later.
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've decided to try my hand at a Harry Potter fic finally after reading the 6th book. If you have not read it yet, do not read this unless you won't mind the ending being completely ruined. I'm still in a transitional faze so if you enjoy it and would like me to continue posting the chapters, by all means review and tell me about it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter. Do not sue.

Summary: This takes place literally right after the 6th book ends. Harry Potter must locate the last of the Horcruxes if he wants to kill Voldemort and suddenly realizes just how complicated it can get without Dumbledore to aid him in his journey.

* * *

Prologue 

Ethwyn Willows stood with a delicate, gentle hand resting on the doorway to her home; her fierce, hunter-green eyes large and round as they followed the soaring, beautifully colored phoenix as it made its way down to the earth. A shiver ran up and down her spine and she dared not blink or else she might loose the bird from view. Whatever would cause Dumbledore to send his cherished Fawkes on such a dark, windy, summer night could not be good.

Holding her breath, she held out her forearm for the phoenix to perch upon once he had reached the girl. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes and gently nuzzled her hand.

The girl with the burnt-honey colored hair, styled in a short bob on top her head trembled as she removed a small piece of parchment from his left leg. It was no larger than a finger's length long and yet the power it contained was more frightening than the Dark Lord Voldemort himself.

Shaky fingers unrolled the note slowly and she released the breath she had been unconsciously still holding. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and she refused to blink again while the letters formed into words inside her mind.

_To My Lovely Miss Willows,_

_I have taken Harry into the cave to search for one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. It is as you and I have feared all along. Severus Snape will betray me tonight. Do not fear; all is how it should be._

_I believe in you. You must believe in yourself and the magic you posses._

_Sincerely Yours, Now and Forever,_

_Former Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

"No..."

The letter fell from her hands and she covered her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks freely. Fawkes fluttered to the ground in front of her as she slowly sank downward. Silently, she sobbed into her arms and knees, the miserable words replaying over and over again inside her mind.

The house behind her seemed to call the young girl back into its warm embrace and she responded without argument. The beautiful phoenix followed her in and perched himself gracefully on her kitchen table. Ethwyn sat beside him and stared ahead at nothing in particular with dry eyes. The answers to her many questions were written in small, slanted scroll in the letter she had left in the doorway.

"Thank you, Fawkes." She stroked the bird kindly. "Go now and see your master to his grave."

Allowing a single, crystal tear to slide down his face and onto her resting hand, the phoenix took flight.

Ethwyn sat for a few more moments, allowing the healing tear to dry into her outstretched palm. Somehow she managed a mischief smile.

"Forgive me, Mother."

* * *

Chapter 1 

Harry Potter sat inside Number Four, Privet Drive as the rain poured heavy buckets outside. It was cool for a June day and he remembered it being much nicer when he was leaving Hogwarts two days earlier. He was only supposed to stay with the Dursley's for a few more days until Fleur and Bill's wedding when Lupin and Tonks would come and pick him up. Due to Bill's injuries, the couple had decided upon a small ceremony at the Burrow. It was to be afterward that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided they would go to Godric's Hollow.

The soon-to-be seventeen year old boy stood up from his four poster and walked over to the window. His trunk and all of his things were still packed and next to his door. Hedwig was perched upon the sill outside keeping watch.

He found himself becoming more and more entrapped by his aunt and uncle's little house with every passing minute spent there. Try as he might, he couldn't help but find himself dwelling in the nightmare that was Dumbledore's death. He remembered being paralyzed by fear as the old man fell to the ground in a heap; his blood running cold through his veins. Seeing him die reminded him of when Sirius battled with Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry a year before and of the negative results following.

Everyone in his life that had seriously tried to protect him had been killed in the process. His parents were dead, Sirius was dead, and now Dumbledore. Who else would Voldemort decide to violently tear away from him? Who else would tragically become "collateral damage" in a war that would never end? Would Ron or Hermione be next? Would Ginny? What about Lupin or Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? What about the Dursleys...though Harry wouldn't be too upset to be finally rid of them.

"I know what I have to do, Hedwig," he started softly, rubbing the snow white owl's head. "It's not fear of death holding me back, either. Without Dumbledore, I don't know how I can win."

He wasn't looking for an answer, obviously, but by simply saying it aloud, he felt somehow a little better.

Staring out the window, he glared menacingly at the rain and somehow envied it for having such freedom. The rain didn't care who it fell upon or what it ruined; it didn't need to. For instance, it didn't mind at all that it was drowning Aunt Petunia's garden or Mrs. Figg's perfectly cut grass. It wasn't until he continued looking for damaged goods that he located a seemingly drenched, young girl walking down the street away from his house, shivering to death beneath what appeared to be a thin, red robe.

He cocked his head curiously to the figure and followed her with his vibrant green eyes. She was the first form of life he had seen since his aunt and uncle had shut him up in his room and had only been up a few times a day to bring him a plate of food.

There was a loud bang and explosion from the opposite direction and he spun around so quickly he nearly fell off his seat. Glasses askew, he pushed open the window and hung his head outside, rain droplets blurring his vision, and saw what appeared to be thick, black smoke clouds coming up from one of the houses down the street near the main road.

Downstairs, the front door burst open and his large uncle raced outside, his wife hot on his heels. All around him doors were opening and people were gasping in surprise and shock. The only person not suddenly taking a great interest in the burning house was the girl walking in the opposite direction. He followed her with blurry eyes until she came to the bend in the road.

Almost as if she could feel him watching her from so far away, she turned her head just before she completely disappeared and her hood fell backwards from a sudden gust of wind. Because of the distance between them, he could only make out – for sure – short, darker-colored hair and big, round eyes filled with...was that a hint of mischief beneath her gaze? She smiled up at him in a way that told him she was responsible for the accident and continued walking on as if nothing had happened.

"Hedwig, did you see that?"

The owl hooted and cocked its head in reply.

"Yeah, I did too."

With a sudden boost of energy, Harry leapt to his feet, grabbed his Muggle jacket, tore open the door, and raced down the stairs; rushing past a yelling Vernon and distressed Petunia. Ignoring them, he darted out the front door and began his chase down the street, moving against the current of people who seemed to be drawing closer to the burning house.

He had been by the house many times before but never did he actually think anyone lived there. The house always seemed to be empty; never a light on or fresh tire marks in the driveway. Once about four or so years previous, he saw an older looking man wearing a charcoal suit, carrying a big suitcase, enter and then leave several hours later. Besides that, he never saw any signs of life around there. If nothing else the lack of obvious owners irritated his uncle to no end because the small building was one of the nicest on the street; perfectly painted shutters and freshly cut grass at all times.

As the "Chosen One" rounded the corner he had seen the girl do moments before, he was somehow not surprised to find no one there and nothing giving off the impression anyone had walked on that sidewalk all day. The air smelt of dew and the concrete was slick from the heavy raindrops that had fallen what felt like minutes before. Now nothing but the moon was shining down upon the little street. Suddenly feeling defeated, he stood for a while to catch his breath before turning back.

He trudged back up the stairs and into his room without a word to his uncle or aunt's red-faced protests ("Where did you go?" "Don't track mud up my stairs!"). Shutting the door silently, he let the jacket fall from her shoulders and toppled over onto his small bed. His shoes still tied to his feet and glasses askew, he closed his eyes and pretended that nothing had ever happened and he was in a small cottage with his parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore.

Harry spent the better part of three days staring out his window and sleeping, only taking about an hour out of the day to eat and bathe. He wanted to see the girl in the red robe again if for no other reason than he enjoyed seeing someone just as miserable as he was. It was horrible, yes, but he didn't care at the moment. It didn't seem to bother him that he was finding comfort in someone he didn't know at all's misery.

He had been dozing with his forehead pressed up against the curtain-covered glass when he heard a small rustle of leaves from below. His eyes flew open and he flung the window wide, almost immediately wishing he hadn't. The sun shone directly into his enlarged pupils and he fell backward off of the chair, only narrowly avoiding slamming his head into the corner of his desk.

The boy groaned and began to massage the back of his head as soon as he realized how idiotic that must have looked to whomever or whatever it was outside. He sat up and adjusted his glasses before returning his attention to the noise.

"That sounded painful," came a very female voice with a hint of laughter in her tone. "You okay, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He leaned far over the side of the windowsill and squinted his eyes to see the Auror. "Hi, Tonks."

The woman with vivid scarlet hair smiled up at him and motioned a hello. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, give me a minute."

Closing and latching the windows tightly, he raced over to his trunk and swung it open. He would never be returning to his house at Number Four, Privet Drive and knew if anything magical was left there, it would be either exposed by one of Dudley's moronic friends (or, perhaps, Dudley himself) or thrown out and hence get into some inexperienced Muggle's hands.

The first thing he stuffed into a much smaller bag he had found in the room when he moved into it five years before was his invisibility cloak (thankfully, Hagrid had found it near the Astronomy Tower before anyone else and given it back to him before the funeral). Deciding that his sixth year textbooks might come in handy later on, he threw those in as well. Any other obviously magical trinkets were placed on top and, thankfully, the rest of the bulk consisted of sweaters and pants, which he decided he would leave behind.

But then he turned back to his bed and saw, hanging from one of the posters of his bed, the golden locket that has put him into so much pain. Even if it wasn't a real Horcrux, he knew he couldn't leave it behind. By simply having it in his pocket he was somehow able to keep himself from exploding. He couldn't leave it behind. In spite of everything, he somehow felt attached to it and by leaving it behind he would be somehow letting Professor Dumbledore down; he snatched it up and thrust it into his front jeans pocket.

His wand in his back pocket, broom in one hand, and bag in the other, he said a silent farewell to the bedroom he had inhabited for half a decade before shutting it quietly and moving downstairs. Aunt Petunia was standing in the kitchen making sandwiches for Uncle Vernon and Dudley when he got to the bottom floor and she hardly looked up to acknowledge his presence. The other two were sitting in the living room, obviously engrossed by some sort of mindless television program.

"I'm leaving," he declared loudly.

No one looked up or pretended to hear him.

He felt rage build up inside of him for his only blood relatives' lack of compassion. He was going to thank them for letting him stay with them and even go as far as apologize for ever being a burden to them; but standing there, arms length away from freedom, made him suddenly realize he didn't care.

Harry Potter thus left Number Four, Privet Drive for the final time without another word, knowing full well if he ever met his mother again she would understand why.

The Auror smiled brightly at him and her eyes shone a deep, vibrant purple. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah," he replied, trying very hard to not sound mad or upset with her; "I'm glad to be out of there."

"I can understand why..." She turned her head to look back at the house as they walked away and made a face of confusion. "I knocked and they wouldn't let me in."

"The purple eyes must have set them off." He paused. "Oh, and by the way, nice hair."

"Thanks," she laughed, "I'm trying something new."

She continued leading the boy until they were around the bend and out of any nosy neighbor's eye line.

"Did you get your Apparating license yet?"

"Not until July."

"That's okay." She grasped his upper arm firmly and gave a warm smile. "You've side-Apparated before, haven't you?"

Harry swallowed hard. "Yeah, with Dumbledore."

"Oh...I'm sorry." Tonks looked slightly abashed at the mention of the powerful wizard and blinked back the beginning of tears. "Well, then...you know the drill."

He only nodded in response and before he knew it, his body felt like it was being squeezed through a test tube, his lungs burning and eyes watering. However, as always, the pain was gone just as quickly as it appeared and when his vision cleared, he saw in front of him the wonderful sight of the Burrow. But just like the other night when he didn't find the girl around the bend, he was somehow not surprised to find himself not feeling as excited and comforted as he usually did when visiting one of his two best friends and his family. Speaking of family...

Memories of his short-lived relationship with the youngest of the Weasley children made his heart ache uncomfortably. He had feelings for her, yes, but he couldn't risk her getting hurt because of him. There was something else, though; something he hadn't wanted to say out loud. While being with Ginny made him feel normal and relaxed, there was just something about her innocense that made him almost afraid to talk to her. He wanted nothing more than to be with someone who would just understand without asking why – and he knew that Ginny would always support him without question – it was just something about the relationship that made him feel that he was almost dirtying something pure. She belonged with someone who didn't have so much history to choke down. It wasn't fair to ask her to give up her childhood for him. Even though they were only a year apart, the difference seemed like ages to the boy as his innocense, he believed, disappeared the night he found out his parents were murdered.

"Harry, you okay?"

His head snapped to the sound of Tonk's voice and he realized he had been fazing out.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

It didn't sound very convincing, but the witch has a feeling all would be revealed in due time.

"Okay then." She cleared her throat and began her saunter up to the house.

Harry followed after her slowly, taking in the scenery with a blank expression. The Burrow looked much different now than it had during the Christmas holiday; sunflowers and roses were in bloom and blossoming in big, thick trails leading up to the house and into the garden where a white archway was placed. There were birds flying overhead with bright-colored ribbons in their beaks and magically enchanted chairs and tables being set up under a beautifully decorated canopy of grapevines.

He looked up to the house and saw two people rushing forward to meet him halfway with big, bright smiles on their faces. The boy recognized them immediately.

"I'll meet you up there," Tonks started, giving a wave and picking up her pace to get to the building.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping into his arms into a tight, warm embrace.

"Hi, mate," Ron said, hands shoved into his pockets with a newfound spring in his step.

Releasing the small girl, he couldn't help but smile as he saw her return to the redhead's side automatically.

"How are you two?"

"Well," the bushy-haired girl began with a wide grin on her face, "everything seems to be going according to plan."

"Yeah, even Fleur and Mom are getting along." Ron scratched the back of his neck and looked down. "Not necessarily with everyone else, but at least with each other."

Hermione chuckled softly. "Lupin's just gone to get the rest of the guests but should be back by tonight."

"The rest of the guests?" Harry repeated as if the language they were suddenly speaking was foreign. "Who else is coming that can't Apparate here?"

"Not so much a matter of Apparating here but rather telling people about it."

"It was so short notice that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley didn't really have a big opportunity to tell everyone; other Order members and such."

"Oh."

The three teenagers began the slow walk back up to the Burrow without saying anything more. They all wanted to say the same thing but continued to remain quiet, deciding later on that evening would be a better time to discuss the plan.

Someone screamed from inside and there was much commotion. Fear raising in all of their throats, the three leapt into a run and closed the distance between them and the house quickly. They burst in, the redhead leading the way, with staggered, harsh breathing to find everyone laughing and having a generally good time.

"What's wrong?" Ron demanded of the closest person to him, Ginny.

"Nothing's wrong. What did you do, run around the garden?"

"Who screamed?"

"Oh, it was just Mom. She was startled, that's all."

Ginny gave Harry a small smile before turning her eyes back to the chatter from across the room.

Relief swelled in his chest and the two behind him sighed comfortably. Ever since Dumbledore's death, they had all been at an uneasy peace; almost as if waiting for the second shoe to drop and kill one of them upon impact.

"Oh, Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley called motioning for all four to come closer.

A person clad in a red robe was standing beside her and once the older woman moved out of the way to greet him properly, he recognized the short, shining hair and large, round eyes almost immediately. She was smiling brilliantly at him revealing perfectly straight, white teeth and deep, luscious, crimson lips. Her almond eyes were an intense shade of hunter-green and the same hint of mischief he had seen the night the house has burnt to the ground was still there.

Mrs. Weasley hugged him tightly and grabbed his face to look at him properly. "How are you feeling? Any better? Have you been eating? You look so thin since I last saw you."

It was, of course, impossible for him to be any lighter in weight since last they were together seeing as how it was only about a week ago at the funeral, but he humored her nevertheless and nodded his head slowly in an attempt to answer all of her questions at the same time.

It appeared to work because she was smiling sadly down at him again, probably thinking he had been in a state of shock since it happened.

"Oh, I'm glad you three are here," she continued, motioning with her arms for everyone to crowd around. "I'd like you to meet the daughter of a very close friend of the Order's."

"Ethwyn Willows," the girl said kindly; "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter so don't sue. The only character I own is Ethwyn Willows.

* * *

Chapter 2 

"Ethwyn Willows," Harry repeated softly to himself while everyone else introduced themselves. He then grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Harry Potter."

"I could have sworn I recognized you from somewhere." With a twinkle in her eye, she reached inside a bag no one had realized was there and pulled out what appeared to be a very small picture frame.

Upon closer inspection, the boy knew it instantly to be the same picture Sirius had in his home, of the original Order of the Phoenix. His parents were standing in dead center, waving and smiling up at him, with Sirius beside Lupin a little too the right. Everyone looked so much younger and so alive it almost pained him to have to lay eyes on it again.

"My mother told me you looked just like James."

He looked back at her to find her watching him with a sympathetic expression. Half expecting her to say something more, he stood in anticipation and was met with more muscle-clenching, uncomfortable silence.

The girl – who was surprisingly average height – simply smiled again before replacing the photograph back into her bag, ending the moment.

The back door flung open and in popped Lupin and Tonks, both a little winded from the climb up to the house.

"Hi, Molly, got some good–" He stopped speaking so suddenly he nearly bit his own tong off. Looking in shock at the amber haired girl, a small smile began to form across his face. "Ethwyn?"

Smiling brilliantly, she bowed her head slowly in front of him. "Yes, Remus."

"Ethwyn Willows, my God!" He rushed forward and picked the girl up in a tight, loving embrace.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she stated, a definite amount of relief in her tone.

He placed her back on the ground and suddenly looked at her with concern and sadness. "I heard about your mother."

Her happy expression changed dramatically to one of indifference and she nodded her head nonchalantly. Something seemed to pass between the two and he looked over at Mrs. Weasley, who was shaking her head ever so slightly.

"Ginny, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley began, ushering the two girls forward, "why don't you two show Ethwyn up to your room. I've rearranged everything to fit the three of you."

They agreed and hastened up the narrow stairwell, Ethwyn turning before disappearing behind the corner, flashing Remus another brilliant smile.

"It really is wonderful to see you again, Remus."

And with that, she was gone, the voice of the Weasley daughter ranting over how Fred and George's room – which was far superior in size to hers – should be considered the "girl's room" as there were now three of them compared to the two twins.

The redhead leading the way and a few paces in front of them, Hermione turned to look at the other girl with curious eyes.

"So, where was your mother in the picture?"

"My mother actually wasn't _in _the picture. She was away on assignment."

"Oh."

"Yeah, not many people in the Order actually knew her."

"Really?" Hermione – the shorter girl – looked a little stunned.

"Dumbledore chose to keep my mother's position a secret from everyone, actually."

The blood rushed out of Hermione's cheeks at the mention of the fallen Headmaster and she suddenly looked very sad.

She didn't want to continue prying, but Ethwyn continued slowly nonetheless. "Were you there when he died?"

Ginny opened the bedroom door and entered, flopping onto one of the cots. Hermione and Ethwyn continued to stand in the doorway, both unconsciously leaning against the wall. The redhead stayed quiet while the two older girls continued their discussion.

"I was around. I didn't see it happen if that's what you mean. Harry was the only one who saw it exactly."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Severus Snape." Her tone was harsh and cold as if the mere thought of the man was painful.

The honey haired girl nodded and knew she should stop her line of questioning before making an enemy of her. She had enough information for the time being anyway.

Ginny let out a long sigh. "Ethwyn, how old are you?"

"Not quite seventeen."

"Do you attend a different magical school? I don't think I've ever seen you."

"Um...no. I was home schooled." She meandered over to the cot nearest the bedroom door and sat down comfortably, feeling the soft mattress under her sore and tired body. She hadn't stopped walking since she set her house on fire three days before and, needless to say, needed to rest.

"Your birthday's soon then?"

"End of the month."

"If it's around the thirty-first, we can throw two parties." Hermione went over to her bed and pulled her trunk out from under it. Flipping it open, she pulled out a fair-sized, unlabeled box and handed it to Ginny. "Harry's birthday is at the end of the month, too. The thirty-first, actually. I got him a first-edition book about Quidditch. I thought he might like it."

The redhead's eyes nearly popped out of her head as she began to flip through the book. "Do you know what this is?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not really. I found it when I was looking for Ron's present and knew he would like it."

Ethwyn smiled. "That's interesting." Lying backward, she stared up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. She wanted to simply close her eyes and go to sleep for the rest of the day; dream of times when she spent morning to dusk with her mother on the porch drinking special-blended tea and reading aloud to each other...

Unfortunately, she knew she couldn't so settled on making patterns with the popcorn ceiling.

Harry and Ron watched as the three girls wandered up the stairs as Lupin and Tonks went into the living room and Fleur, Fred, and George bustled into the kitchen...well, Fleur came bustling in, Fred and George more so just trudged behind carrying what appeared to be the longest veil in the history of veils.

"'ary! How wonderful to zee you!" She landed a perfectly-shaped, strawberry-scented imprint of lips on his cheek and he couldn't help but blush.

"Did you have any luck finding the tiara?" Mrs. Weasley asked quickly, a look of excitement on her face.

In response to her question, the beautiful, tall woman turned away from them all, did something with her head, and then turned back, sparkling eyes to match the diamonds in the headdress.

"Oh, Fleur!" the older witch began, gasping in surprise, "you look radiant!"

"Thank you," she declared, motioning for Fred and George to bring over the enlarged piece of gossamer.

Fred looked over to Harry and nodded his head in hello. The sweat beading off of his forehead was explanation enough.

"Hello, Harry," George murmured, he, too, displaying the same defeated expression.

"Where did you end up finding it?" their mother asked as she and the bride-to-be examined the intricate detail of the tiara.

"We looked upstairs," Fred began slowly.

"And then downstairs," George continued.

"And then outside in the back where you and Dad keep all of the family heirlooms and Christmas presents."

"But finally found it in an invisible pocket in the shed next to the gardening tools and lawn chairs."

"It was very difficult to find."

"How do you find an invisible pocket?" Ron inquired curiously.

Fred and George paled. "Don't ask."

"Oh, yes, that's right," Mrs. Weasley started, a hand covering her mouth in a foolish pose; "I hid it in there two summers ago when we were spending out time at Grimauld Place."

The old house brought back a painful reminder to Harry that he still hadn't been there since Sirius's death and needed to collect the family items he would have wanted his godson to possess.

_I'll do it before we leave_, he thought to himself, trying very hard to put on a good face for everyone. If Mrs. Weasley thought he was still very upset, the chances of her letting him, Ron, and Hermione leave for the summer were very remote.

Ron looked at his mother and groaned. "Is that what happened to my golden pocket watch?"

"No, you lost that all on your own," George commented, the twins getting a good snicker out of it.

"So have you been practicing for your Apparating license?" the other began, a hint of a mocking tone in his voice.

"Yeah, I mean, you wouldn't want to fail again; loose another half an eyebrow."

"You know, George, I don't even think they'll let him take it a third time."

"You might be right, Fred."

"Boyz!" Fleur exclaimed gaining all the attention of the room. "Leave Ron alone. Eet iz not 'iz fault."

His face matched his hair by the time she planted a kiss on his cheek as she had done to Harry earlier.

Harry looked around, realizing that a few key players weren't there. "Where's Mr. Weasley and Bill? What about Charlie and...uh...Percy?"

"Dad had to take Bill back to St. Mungo's," Ron explained. "His arm isn't healing all that well so they want to take another look at it. Make sure everything's okay."

"Oh..."

Mrs. Weasley began attaching the veil to the tiara with Fleur, turning her back to the four boys.

"Charlie's heading some smaller Order out in Romania and couldn't make it back. Percy's...well...he wasn't invited."

Oh, how they all longed for a distraction. Every time someone opened their mouth, it resulted in someone becoming very uncomfortable.

Right at that very moment the three girls that wandered upstairs earlier appeared at the doorway again, cackling over something apparently hilarious.

"So did he ever find out the truth?" Ginny asked after calming herself down a little. She waved hello to everyone in the kitchen and went over to the backdoor.

"Are you joking?" Ethwyn raised her hood over her head until it framed her face and continued laughing. "As far as he knows, I'm still a bloody Muggle living in Liverpool with lots of cats."

"Oh that's wonderful," Hermione beamed.

"Liverpool?" Ron commented, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Ginny responded, waving her hand as almost a dismissal of the question. "You wouldn't understand."

Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron and motioned with her finger for the two to follow them.

They obliged without question or hesitation, finding this an easy out of the kitchen and wedding preparations.

Once outside, Ginny looked back at the four older teenagers and looked slightly embarrassed. "I think I should go help Mom and Fleur. I'll see you guys later."

Avoiding Harry's eyes, she rushed by them and into the house quite unexpectedly.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks while both Harry and Ethwyn continued in their perplexity.

"Is she okay?" Ethwyn asked Hermione softly.

"It's kind of a long story."

"Pretty much," Ron simplified, not catching Hermione's eye that said _Not now!_, "she and Harry were together during the end of this past year."

"Were together?" She looked inquiringly at the boy in question and caught his eye. "What happened?"

Harry didn't want to tell her; he didn't know her. The fact that she was very easy to talk to only made it harder for him and he scratched the back of his neck nervously, giving Ron and Hermione a sideways pleading glance.

"It just didn't work out," the redhead stated flatly and the other two could have shot him.

Ethwyn knew it wasn't the real reason but decided against further questioning of the subject.

The wedding was in less than twelve hours and yet Harry couldn't make himself sleep even if he wanted to. He kept thinking about everything that had happened and his mind wouldn't allow him to rest. So instead, he laid in the small cot just beside the bedroom door in Fred and George's room and stared at the ceiling – Ron sleeping not five feet away in another cot. (Mrs. Weasley had placed Fleur in Ron's room because of some silly superstition about the groom not being allowed to see the bride before the wedding.)

After a solid hour of doing this and the ability to fall asleep becoming more and more distant, he decided on getting himself something to eat and slid out of the bed easily and soundlessly. Luckily, the Weasley boys were known to be very heavy sleepers and he was already near the doorway. It was a matter of minutes before he was tip-toeing through the hallway leading to the narrow stairwell.

He passed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's closed door and was thankful to hear the occasional snore or grunt rather than hushed and fervent conversation. The next door was Bill's room, which was partially open, but he knew that the man was very weak from being at the hospital all day and was sound asleep. The only other room on that floor was Ginny's and he paused in front of it. Inside, he could hear the distinct sounds of someone who wasn't sleeping. There was serious movement going on behind that door and he was a tad curious to see what it was.

Pressing his ear against the wood, he strained himself to hear voices. Nothing. However, he definitely heard one of the old cots creaking from someone rolling around uncomfortably.

"Oh this is no use," he heard softly before the noises stopped altogether.

The door opened and the boy fell inside, head first, into the girl standing behind it. Immediately, she pressed her hand over his mouth and looked over at the other two sleeping figures. After a few minutes of nothing, she released his face and looked at him with a bright smile and a finger across her lips. It was here that Harry realized he had landed directed on top of a girl he had met only hours beforehand.

"Sorry," he murmured as quietly as he could manage, lifting himself up and then holding out a hand to help her.

She excepted his hand and pulled herself up, motioning for him to follow her outside into the hall. He did so and she clicked the door shut silently.

"Let's go downstairs," she suggested in a whisper, wrapping her arms across her body. She was only wearing a thin nightgown that went no farther than her knees but cut low across her chest. "Might I borrow that sweatshirt you're wearing first?"

Looking suddenly very red, the boy tore it off over his head and handed it her, the gray shirt he was wearing underneath nearly coming off with the sweatshirt.

"Thanks."

He nodded his head quickly and began leading her downstairs. As soon as they were sure no one had heard them, they sat down at the kitchen table and picked at the bowl of fruits sitting in front of them.

It only took her a moment to bring it up.

"Okay, I hate uncomfortable silences. You can just ask me."

"Ask you what?"

She raised her eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat.

"Did you light that house on fire?"

"Well," she began, peeling an orange and popping a slice into her mouth, "that house on the end of the street was _mine_. So yes, I did light my house on fire."

"I didn't think anyone lived in that house." He took a large bite out of an apple before continuing. "Why have I never seen you before?"

"Let's just say that my mother and I enjoyed keeping to ourselves." She toyed with the discarded orange peel with her left index finger and her eyes trailed off towards Mrs. Weasley's special clock. Tilting her head to the side, a smaller smile spread across her candle-lit face.

"It's how she keeps track of her family when they're not home and she doesn't know where they are."

"Cleaver."

"Yeah," he continued, "I'm pretty sure if I spend much more time here she's going to put my name and picture up there, too."

"Sounds wonderful."

He stared at her quizzically and she stood up from the table and went over to examine the magical clock more closely, tracing a finger over the spoons and faces. "Voldemort attacked and killed my mother three weeks ago."

Harry's face drained of all coloring and he leapt out of his seat. He had known the girl for no longer than half a day and she was bestowing upon him a great deal of personal knowledge. Her sincere ability to trust in strangers gave him the same feelings of warmth and comfort he received around Dumbledore.

"Why?" he whispered, trying desperately to keep his voice level.

She turned to look back at him and actually gave a small, mischievous smile. "Probably because of her ties with Albus Dumbledore, if you want to know the truth. He, more often than not, had her going off on very strange – very confidential – assignments for the Order."

Ethwyn wandered back over to the table and took her seat again. "You understand I offer my sincerest condolences to you. I imagine you two were closer than usual students and Headmasters."

He sat down across from her and stared deeply into her face, painting a picture of how she looked in the back of his mind. "I suppose so." He paused a moment before continuing. "What sort of...assignments did your mother do?"

"I never knew the details of most of them." She looked slightly confused for a moment and looked out the window. "There was one thing though...Have you ever heard of the Compass of Time?"

He shook his head no. "Hermione would probably. Why?"

"Well, that was one of her last assignments. It's supposed to be a very dangerous, Dark object that the Ministry supposedly destroyed fifty years ago. He wanted her to find it or something."

"If it was destroyed, why would Dumbledore want you mother to find it?"

She turned back and looked him straight in the eye. "Good question. I've been trying to find out about it but every person I've asked has just told me to not worry my 'pretty little head' about such Dark magic." She scoffed and blew her bangs out of her eyes.

"Well, maybe Hermione will know something about it. We can ask her tomorrow if you'd like."

"That's okay." She quickly shook the idea away with her head. "I'm sure Remus will tell me now if I ask him."

"Speaking of Lupin, how do you know him anyway?"

"My father died shortly after my mother became pregnant with me and he was the one Dumbledore asked to help her through the pregnancy. He was there when I was born, actually."

"Really?" Harry smiled. "I can see Professor Lupin doing something like that."

"Yeah. He's been the closest thing I've ever had to a fatherly figure."

"I know the feeling."

And so, he told her about Sirius and how he treated Harry as a son up until the moment he died. He also shared with her the wonderful feeling of love he got from Dumbledore, especially the year leading up to now. She sat across from him, playing unconsciously with the discarded orange peels; her eyes staying on him the entire time. Admittedly, it was probably about four o'clock in the morning before they meandered back up to their individual bedrooms, but he actually felt better talking to someone about the good times he had forgotten about. He lied down with a grin spread across his face and as soon as his head grazed the top of the pillow, he was sound asleep.


End file.
